


Hellen Potter and her Dæmon, Cadfael

by Sar_Kalu



Series: A String of W.I.P's [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: AU, Everyone has a dæmon, Fem!Harry, Fem!Harry fights a War and Lives Happily ever after, First Thru Seven, Gen, Gen!fic, WIP, but nothing too extremem, dæmon seperation, dæmons are external souls, mentions of child abuse, more realistic? than extravagant, more than cannon levels of violence, with soul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-06 19:45:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14064219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sar_Kalu/pseuds/Sar_Kalu
Summary: In a world where people have external souls that take on the shapes of animals, Hellen Potter has learned that there are more than Dæmons and Witches on Cloudbrooms to this world; there is also magic, friendship, and everything in between.





	1. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellen “Hel” Potter: Cadfael 
> 
> Ron Weasley: Orinda 
> 
> Hermione Granger: Leontes 
> 
> Neville Longbottom: Penny
> 
> Draco Malfoy: Clara 
> 
> Blaise Zabini: Laurel 
> 
> Daphne Greengrass: Micha
> 
> Theodore Nott: Iset

**“SLYTHERIN!”**

 

The word rings out over the anticipatory hall. Hellen stands quietly, ignoring how quiet the Great Hall, of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, is. With a calm she did not feel, Hellen hands the Sorting Hat back to Professor McGonagall and makes her way to the dumbfounded table clad in emerald green. Malfoy is looking around particularly smug, as though daring anyone to try and take the Great Girl-Who-Lived away from the House of Serpents. 

 

Hellen sits beside the blonde boy and feels, rather than sees, her dæmon settle in beside her. “They are surprised,” Cadfael murmurs blandly.

 

Hellen doesn’t acknowledge Cadfael and instead firmly kept her attention on the sorting that is continuing before them. Cadfael is currently a rather dignified looking silver cat with grey rosettes and ice blue eyes. An Egyptian Mau. Hellen could remember the breed from an encyclopaedia they read a few years back, before - 

 

Hellen blinks. Ronald Weasley, the boy from the train, has been sorted into Gryffindor and his expression is torn as he looked at her from across the Hall even as his brothers pound the table in enthusiastic welcome. She smiled at him but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Hermione Granger and her dæmon, Leontes, make room for the gangly, redheaded boy beside her. Hellen almost feels something akin to envy as she watches brown hair mix with red as the two other first years put their heads together and clearly gossip about _her_.

 

“Don’t worry, Potter,” Malfoy snarks in a tone that is meant to be sarcastic but comes across as abrasive instead. “Your pet Weasel will no doubt tag along after you during every class we have…” Malfoy trails off and raises an eyebrow as if to say _not that anyone should want that, idiot_. 

 

Hellen ignores him. 

 

Somehow, she thinks that she’ll be doing a lot of that over the next few years.

 

**xXx**

 

Hellen wakes the next morning s c r e a m i n g.

 

It wasn’t the first time that she had, but Hellen had hoped that moving to a new school in a new place might alleviate some of the stress and tension that she feels almost constantly. Lying on her bed, trying to regain her breath, Hellen tries not to cry or hit something. She has been working on her anger management skills.

 

It hasn’t been going well.

 

Class starts at 08:30am and Hellen has been sitting at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall for close to two hours now. Cadfael is on the other side of the Hall and Hellen wishes that she could feel the pinch of the distance still, but she can’t. Not anymore. Cadfael is large black raven today, it’s a favourite of his and Hellen knows it’s because wings allowed for dæmons to escape those that might want to harm them. Movement at the doorway has Cadfael streaking back over to Hellen and winding his way in sleek ermine form around her neck. He’s still black, but she can now feel his heartbeat against her skin.

 

Hellen wishes she remembered how comforting that used to feel. 

 

They have transfiguration first up. Professor McGonagall is standing at the front of the room with a stern look on her face and her dæmon is perched upon her shoulder. He is a regal looking European Gold Eagle with tawny feathers and a distinctly golden ruff around his neck. He appears to be as thrilled as their Professor does to see them all sitting in front of him. Staring vacantly.

 

Cadfael perches on Hellen’s chair back like he had at primary school, before Dudley learnt that Cadfael was vulnerable in that position and easy to grab at. Hogwarts seemed to be the kind of place where doing such things would garner severe punishment, however; and Hellen grinds her teeth to the beat of her heart as she listened to the Scotswoman’s lecture about wand safety and how they must study hard in this class to succeed. 

 

Hellen has read all the material for this class however, and knows precisely what to do. They still do nothing but take notes all lesson. Apparently they wont lift a wand until October at the earliest. Hellen cannot help but feel frustrated by the idea and resolved to practice in private. 

 

Ronald Weasley sprints to catch up with her at the end of class, his right hand has been spattered by ink and somehow the very tip of his tie looked as though the redheaded boy had deliberately dragged it over his notes. “Hellen! Wait up!” 

 

Hellen smiles nervously at him, she can remember what he said on the train about witches that go into Slytherin being evil and into the dark arts. Hellen’s only just learned about magic that isn’t the witches on their cloudbrooms; and she wouldn’t know dark magic from good magic even if someone taught her. “Ron, hi,” she murmurs, her head ducks down to hide her eyes and her face. She doesn’t want to see what his expression is or to hear the condemnation he’ll speak of her House.

 

“Transfiguration,” Ron proclaims loudly as he slung an arm around her shoulder, “is going to be really hard,” and Hellen can’t help the wistful smile on her face at the warmth that Ron’s arm evokes. 

 

“I’m sorry,” she tells him, tears threatening her voice but she holds them back all the same. Hellen learnt a long time ago that crying never solved anything and that sometimes, people are looking to make you cry even when you’ve done nothing to them.

 

“What for?” Ron demands, hunching down so he can see her face which feels cold and stiff. Ron’s face twists, “oh, hey, no don’t cry,” and the redhead now sounds panicked, his hand pulling a slightly sticky handkerchief from his pocket and moving to hand it to Hellen, but she’s feeling frozen and terrified. She’s never had a friend before and Ron hates Slytherin’s so now she’s lost a friend too; and Hellen now knows what it feels like to lose a friend, and she’s never felt so cold.

 

Ron is wiping her face with a strange mixture of pleading as he begs her not to cry and roughness, because he’s a boy who’s used to jockeying for position with six older brothers; but Ron also has a younger sister and he’s as gentle and kind as he can be, hands both rough and warm as he pulls Hellen into a tight hug. 

 

“Please don’t cry, Hel,” Ron begs again, rubbing her back a little too roughly and Hellen can’t remember the last time she was hugged like this, if ever. Ron’s dæmon is in the form of a chocolate eyed Labrador and Hellen thinks Orinda has never been so beautiful. 

 

“But,” Hellen hiccoughs, “I’m a Slytherin!” She can’t help the hysteria she feels. Both Ron and Hagrid have told her all about Slytherin House and why it’s so dreadful and maybe Aunt Petunia was right all along. Hellen can remember the slightly too pinched caste of Aunt Petunia’s face when the letter first arrived. Hellen can remember the way her gut had swooped in fear as she realised that she really was a freak. She was a witch, but she wasn’t a real witch like the ones that rode cloudbrooms. She was a witch that was destined to be evil and wrong and Ron was going to hate her and Hagrid was going to hate her and she was going to be the worst person ever.

 

Ron’s arms tighten around her before larger hands pull her from him and Hellen is now looking up at twin faces topped with red hair like Ron and Hellen knows that this is Fred and George, because Ron has told her all about them. 

 

“Hey, little Snake,” one of them greets her gently, puling her into a gentle hug, “you’re not going to be evil or wrong or anything bad.”

 

The second one rests a curled hand beneath her chin and forces her to meet his eyes, “you’re just a kid. Not even a week into your first year. You couldn’t even curse a rabbit right now,” he tells her softly with a wide smile on his face that reassures Hellen.

 

“Nothing wrong about you,” the first twin adds in.

 

The second widens his smile to a grin, “Ron’s told us all about you. He says you were really nice on the train.”

 

“We’re sorry,” the first one tells her and Hellen’s feeling confused about everything.

 

“Why?” She asks them.

 

Both twins’ faces fall and they look uncertain, “because we told Ron that Slytherin’s were evil and we didn’t really mean it. We lied; and we’re sorry that we’ve made you so sad.”

 

Hellen feels something warm blossom in her chest and she can feel a smile tugging at her lips, “Slytherin’s aren’t all bad?”

 

Ron made his presence known again, “any more than Gryffindor’s are all good,” and here he shoots his brothers a sharp glare. He turns back to Hellen, “you’re my friend, Hel, my first friend. I’m not going to abandon you over some stupid house feud!”

 

“Quite right, quite right,” one of the twins agrees with a lofty grin, “besides, first years are still only babies. Babies aren’t evil!”

 

Ron’s mouth drops open in outrage and he pulls Hellen over to him, “we are not babies, Fred!”

 

‘Fred’ smirks at his younger brother, “ooh, touchy, touchy. Well, brother mine,” he says with a sly smile, “our work here is done.”

 

The other twin waggles his fingers at the two first years in a mocking goodbye, “too true, brother dearest,” he drops a hand to settle in the ruff of the huge dæmon by his side that looks like a wolf but yellow not grey. Hellen thinks its called a jackal. She watches the two third years saunter off, bantering as they join the class outside the Transfiguration classroom.

 

Hellen feels shame wash over her as she realises that she’d burst into tears in public like a baby. Ron grabs her hand and drags her down the hallway, nattering on about classes and wands and when were they going to cast any real spells, d’you think?

 

Hellen listens to him with a radiant smile on her face and she thinks, not for the first time, that Hogwarts is more a home than the Dursley’s ever was. She loves it here, with the wide, arched hallways and the floors of ragged stone. It’s beautiful with its windows that look like they should belong to a church and she thinks that the scones filled with candles make the place smell different, almost oily, to a city. Hogwarts breathes magic with its every surface. Hellen feels at home and at peace as she wanders from the transfiguration classroom to the greenhouses with Ron by her side.

 

**xXx**

 

Hagrid invites Hellen to afternoon tea on the Friday after their first week of classes, but Hellen has a meeting with Professor Snape that day about how she was fitting in and she suggests the week after. She and Ron had made a promise to each other to look around the school on the Saturday and not get lost next week; and Sunday would be used to finish up her homework. 

 

Ron ends up inviting Neville Longbottom, the boy with the lost toad, along too; and somehow Hermione Granger tags along, and Hellen is feeling overwhelmed by Gryffindors. Hellen and Ron run along the hallways with Neville and Hermione bringing up the rear, their dæmons racing at their sides or, like Cadfael, soaring overhead. Hellen has never felt so free and her laughter is loud and bright as she chases her new friends down staircases and along corridors. Even Hermione, who had worried about getting into trouble at first, is enjoying herself and Leontes has become a squirrel monkey and is swinging from torch bracket to torch bracket along the walls, keeping pace with them all in delight.

 

Neville’s Penny is a short, squat little pug that wrestles and chases Orinda, who is a beagle today. Cadfael, as always, refuses to join in, but when they stop for a breather, he deigns to perch on Hellen’s shoulder and watches the two dæmon’s wrestling in the dirt with amusement. Looking around at the sweaty, flushed faces of her friends, Hellen vows to never forget this moment and in a rare moment of mirroring, Cadfael shifts from raven to bobtail cat in acquiescence to Hellen’s joyous mood. 

 

The new week progresses in much the same way with Ron and Neville, more often than not, dragging Hellen and Hermione around the castle as they try to find all the places that Fred and George have told Ron about; because that’s the only way they can all spend time together. 

 

On Wednesday, when they are exploring the fourth floor, they find an empty classroom filled with old overstuffed armchairs and they all collapse in a ragged pile of smiles and limbs, happy to be together. There’s a rug stretched out in front of an enormous fireplace and Hellen slithers onto it and stretches out in a starfish with Cadfael curling up in the form of a tiger nearby, keeping one golden eye on her at all times. The past week has seen Cadfael transitioning more and more into feline forms around their new friends and Hellen feels like this perfectly reflects how much she has come out of her shell.

 

Hermione sets her book bag down on a nearby table and flops onto the ground with Hellen, resting her head on Hellen’s stomach. Leontes perches on the mantel piece in the shape of a small scopes owl, his eyes big and round and very yellow as he stares around at all the happy, floppy, preteens in the room. Ron and Neville are sprawled on chairs with their dæmons flopped over them and for a brief moment in time, this spells everything perfection and happiness for all of them. 

 

By the time Friday rolls around, Hellen couldn’t imagine not dragging all her new friends along with her to Hagrids. Fang barks in welcome for all of them as they tumble through the door and answer Hagrids questions about tea. The afternoon whiles away in a summery haze of good conversation, laughter, and shrieks of denial whenever Ron and Hellen make jokes about everyones progress in classes. Hagrid only makes one mention about Hellen’s house and it’s with a gentle smile of acceptance although Hellen can see in his eyes how hard it is for Hagrid to reassure her. Hellen doesn’t know what happened, but something bad hurt him in the past and Hellen knows it has something to do with her House.

 

Hellen, Ron, Hermione, and Neville stumble into the Entrance Hall just as dinner is starting, laughing and joking, and nearly run into Professors McGonagall and Snape. The four first years freeze in shock and sudden fear but both teachers simply smirk and direct them to the Great Hall in silence. At the doors, Hellen feels almost cold as she splits from her friends and makes her way to Slytherin table where Malfoy and Parkinson both wait for her with barbed tongues.  Hellen sits in silence, not even able to drudge up any enthusiasm to converse with Cadfael, who is once again a raven and perched upon her shoulder. 

 

Across from her, a boy with yellowish eyes grins and leans forwards, “you’re a mess, Potter, where have you been?”

 

Hellen looks up and flushes, she knows she’s a mess because her fingernails are ragged and dirty and her school uniform is a bit dusty too from running everywhere and wrestling with Ron on the floor of Hagrid’s hut. “Hagrids,” she explains shortly.

 

The boy’s eyebrows raise, “the half-giant groundskeeper? Why did you got there?”

 

Hellen cocks an eyebrow; an expression she’s blatantly copied from her head of house, but everyone does it so it’s not like she’s alone in her plagiarism. “I was invited to tea,” is her reply.

 

The boy smirks at her, “you don’t like me much, do you?”

 

“I don’t even know you,” Hellen tells him in confusion.

 

“Well,” the boy states, “there’s only one way to fix that.” He holds out a hand with yet another smirk, “hi, I’m Blaise Zabini. I’m sure you’ve heard of my mother, everyone has…”

 

Hellen takes his hand and shakes is briefly, “no, actually, I haven’t. Is she famous?”

 

Zabini’s expression goes blank for a second before a brilliant and genuine smile breaks out across his face. “Not in the slightest,” he tells her cheerfully, “more infamous, really.”

 

Hellen can remember from Primary that infamous was like famous but for the wrong reasons. She’s not sure she wants to know what Mrs. Zabini did to become infamous, she thinks she’d probably disapprove. “Well,” she says awkwardly, tailing off because she’s not sure what to say.

 

Zabini’s head cocks to the side, “does this make us friends now?”

 

“I don’t know,” Hellen admits; but when dinner ends she gets up and follows Zabini and his black cat dæmon back to the Slytherin common room and Cadfael doesn’t say anything despite being a snake shaped necklace hung around her throat. They spend the evening crouched over their homework and Zabini becomes Blaise and the dæmon tells them her name: Laurel; and Hellen thinks, as they pack up their books and parchment, that they might be friends after all. 

 

Blaise brings two of his friends to the band, Daphne Greengrass and Theodore Nott. They’re both running from their families names like Blaise is and they all grew up with each other because their families run a potions business together and its always good to know your future business partners. Where Blaise is dark haired with a hooked nose and skin that edges closer to black than dusky; Daphne is all pale skin and nearly white blonde hair with pale green eyes that have more in common with sea-glass than cut stones. Theodore is thin and scraggly, his dæmon is almost-always a whip-thin wolf with hungry eyes and sharp fangs. Theo’s eyes are sky blue and his hair a messy brown - it seems strange to think that his skin is darker than all of theirs but Blaise and Hermione’s. Hellen had never seen a brown skinned person with blue eyes, but apparently Theo’s Mum is of Egyptian descent and the way he speaks of her and her dæmon is like they’re gone.

 

Ron watches the new arrivals with suspicious eyes when Hellen introduces them, but he doesn’t say anything and is in fact delighted to learn that Blaise is more than a challenge for him when it comes to chess. Orinda and Laurel hang over the backs of their humans chairs in feathered form as they whisper advice and cutting condemnation in equal measure.

 

Daphne and Hermione hover around the edges, both girls having more in common with each other than the boys that Hellen finds comfort in spending her time with. Neville joins them more often than not, he finds Theo terrifying for some reason and the competitiveness of Blaise and Ron gets on his nerves. 

 

It takes time but eventually Theo begins to relax and stop looking so hunted and his dæmon sheds her wolf skin to become a slightly more tame looking Manx cat with long grey-brown fur and slitted green eyes. He introduces her as Iset, his Mum had named her when he had been born after the wife of Osiris, the osprey god of Egyptian wizards. 

 

Daphne’s dæmon never changes from an Abyssinian cat and they all wonder if she hasn’t settled like that, because of all the young dæmons, Mica is the most severe and adult-like; but Ron’s dæmon is cheeky and such a Gryffindor in much the same way Ron is, and Orinda tackles Mica as a Labrador one day and Mica transforms into a great Siberian tiger and holds his teeth over Orinda’s neck and Ron screams and Daphne pleads with Mica to let Orinda go and it takes days until Ron and Daphne talk to each other again. 

 

One day they will learn that Daphne’s uncle, Tomas, has a wolf dæmon named Hades, who likes to pin Mica down and bite and scratch at the younger dæmon until Daphne and Mica are almost comatose with pain. Ron will listen in horror and promise never to let anyone harm her again and Daphne’s smile will be vulnerable and shaky but beautiful all the same; and Mica will change from Abyssinian a beautifully plumed peacock that fans his tail in a magnificent and glorious display of appreciation and courting and Ron and Daphne will blush brightly…

 

But today is not that day and Neville and Penny are hopping into the room, both their legs stuck together nearly crying with discomfort and fear. “Malfoy,” is the only explanation given, but they don’t need another; and Theo and Hellen are hard pressed not to run from the room and beat up the smug, blonde ponce while Hermione counter-spells Neville’s legs and Blaise does the same for Penny; and Iset and Cadfael are uniformly snarling wolves that pace the edges of the room, hungry for vengeance even as Ron and Daphne both talk Theo and Hellen down.

 

In the months since arriving at Hogwarts, they have all become a family and Hellen isn’t sure how its happened. There have been fights and arguments; there was that one time that the girls had dragged Hermione out of a bathroom and to the Slytherin table when Ron had insulted her after Charms one day. Ron had been the one to start a number of the arguments and fights, he’s hot headed and stubborn, but Blaise is like ice to Ron’s flame and they glance each other well. 

 

Neville is grounded and still and when Theo rages and snarls and Iset paces, Neville is there to rest a hand on the smaller boy’s shoulder and calm him down with a few kind words. Hellen and Daphne have more than once pulled Hermione out of her head and snapped her out of her depression of thinking she’s unloveable or too smart. 

 

Blaise is a constant mother-hen, chasing after everyone with sandwiches and handkerchiefs, finding an ally in this with Theo of all people as they look after their strange little band of snakes and lions. Ron is forever the protective brother once he hits his stride, Malfoy’s sported more than one bloody nose from attacking them in front of Ron. It gets worse once Ron’s had his brothers teach him to curse with better spells. Defence is quickly becoming Ron’s best subject, although Charms is close behind. 

 

And Hellen sits in the middle of it, pushed and pulled in all directions feeling vital and valid in the midst of this mess she helped create and Hellen thinks that she’s never seen anything so beautiful as Theo practicing healing spells on Neville after yet another disastrous potions or flying lesson, or Hermione setting them all down and going over their spell and book work. It feels like what family should be, and Hellen begins, slowly, - as Christmas approaches and they all agree to stay even though Daphne worries about her younger sister, Astoria, and her dæmon, Roi, - to see herself as no longer Hellen, the Freak from Number Four Privet Drive; but Hel, the beloved friend of Ron, Hermione, Daphne, Theo, Neville and Blaise. 

 

Hel is bright, beautiful and laughs in a way that Hellen never learnt to or had forgotten after everything that had happened; and as Hel began to relax and laugh and to enjoy herself, so too did Cadfael, the dæmon’s transition more into cats and dogs and non-bird forms that spoke of their trauma and fear from living as muggles in Surrey. Cadfael, her poor, clever, broken dæmon who had suffered greatly at the hands of Dudley and his friends; who had ensured that she would never have been sorted a Gryffindor, despite her best wishes; who she was barely connected to, and oh how her friends had noticed but never asked because Cadfael slipped sometimes and would fly to high, to far, and how she loved them for not asking. 

 

But that didn’t mean they weren’t curious.


	2. Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellen “Hel” Potter: Cadfael
> 
> Ron Weasley: Orinda
> 
> Hermione Granger: Leontes
> 
> Neville Longbottom: Penny
> 
> Draco Malfoy: Clara
> 
> Blaise Zabini: Laurel
> 
> Daphne Greengrass: Micha
> 
> Theodore Nott: Iset

Christmas dawns bright and early on the 25th of December for all the first year students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Hellen has slept the night through, having exhausted herself the previous day throwing snowballs at Ron and Blaise who seemed determined to make her enjoy herself. Neville had sat on the steps of the castle with Daphne and Hermione trying to learn how to knit because Hermione seemed to find the past-time relaxing and Daphne had been curious. Theo had kept them company, his dæmon a wolf again whilst they were outside and they were both silent and watchful as they kept an eye on their friends.

 

Movement outside Hel’s bed hangings heralds Daphne before the excited blonde rips the hangings open and throws a thick cloak at Hel’s face. “Get up, slow poke,” Daphne exclaims loudly to the annoyance of their other roommates, “we’re meeting Blaise out in the common room soon.”

 

Rubbing sleep from her eyes, Hel can’t help but laugh at her friends excitement. “What about Theo?”

 

“He and Iset are already in the room,” Daphne says by the way of an explanation, “I don’t know why they’re so excited, but they are. Blaise said they ran from the room like crazy people.”

 

“Well, thank Merlin, you’re above all that, huh?” Hel couldn’t help but quip.

 

Daphne’s eyes rolled at Hel even as the older girl grabbed her arm and towed her from the room. “Come _on_ , Potter, we’re going to be late,” Daphne huffs in exasperation.

 

Blaise is standing by the Common Room entrance, holding a basket filled with his gifts and Hel suddenly realises that Daphne’s holding all of theirs under her arm. Just last week they’d been taught a sticking charm in class and Daphne had been the first person to get it right, to Flitwick’s delight. Daphne was now using that sticking charm to balance close to twenty gifts on her arm, although, given how small they all were, Hel suspected that Daphne had shrunk the presents down as well as stick them together.

 

“Let’s go, let’s go,” Daphne cries out with a bright smile stretching her mouth. 

 

Blaise laughs in delight and extends an arm for them to take, guiding them up to the fourth floor were Ron and Hermione were waiting for them already, Laertes and Orinda curled up as a dog and otter before the fire that crackled in the hearth. Daphne’s Mica flowed down her arm from butterfly to white ermine to join them, Cadfael deigning to settle nearby in the shape of an arctic fox with blue eyes. 

 

Hel twists and turns on the spot, trying to find Neville and Theo in the room, hoping that they might leap out and surprise her.

 

“They’re not here,” Hermione tells Hel exasperatedly, her tone waspish, “Neville was here, but Theo dashed in and stole he and Penny away. Iset was unable to hold her form she was so excited.”

 

“It was weird,” Ron agrees with a nod of his head, “I’ve never seen anything like it before. Not from Theo at least. My sister, Ginny and her dæmon, Tristan get like that a lot, but I’ve never seen Theo-”

 

“You have so seen me, Weasley,” Theo’s voice cut through Ron’s attempted explanation loudly as the boy himself and Neville both appeared carrying huge baskets that wafted delicious smells of fresh baked bread and bacon into the room.

 

Hermione’s eyes widen in surprised and she dashes forwards to pull all the parchment and books from the table, stacking them on a nearby desk. Daphne rushes to help her while Hel and Ron grab enough chairs for everyone to sit down. 

 

“A feast,” Theo announces grandly as he whips the top of the first basket and proceeded to pull out dish after dish. Meanwhile, Neville does the same with the second, only the first thing he pulls out was a carafe of hot chocolate that utterly delights everyone there.

 

“This is fantastic, Theo,” Hel moans around a piece of fried haloumi that Blaise has spent the last month and a half talking about  as though its the greatest invention since sliced bread. 

 

Ron groans in wordless agreement, working his way through rashes of bacon, mushrooms, and fried tomatoes. Neville for his part is picking and nibbling his way through a little bit of everything and occasionally sneaking small bites to Penny, who is hovering beside his plate in the shape of a mouse.

 

Daphne appears to be creating a strange sandwich out of pickles, roast beef, lettuce and all the condiments she can squeeze into her bun; Hermione’s half watching her in disgust and amazement while also fending off Leontes’ attempts at stealing her eggs and bacon, he’s a squirrel monkey again and his big pleading eyes aren’t helping his case. 

 

Theo watches them all with bright, satisfied eyes even as he tugs Iset away from a bowl filled with various fruits, she seems to be trying to get into a fat, juicy mango while in the form of a large white bird with a crest of bright yellow feathers. Hel can’t remember what kind of bird it is, but it’s absolutely enormous with a wicked sharp and curved beak that Hel isn’t sure she’d be brave enough to put her fingers anywhere near. Iset can be cruel at times, like Theo can, but with less impulse control. 

 

“So good,” is all Blaise says when he falls backwards onto a nearby chair, his legs splayed apart and Hel realises with a stunned blink, that he, and everyone else, was still in his pyjamas. Somehow, they all had decided to come to Christmas breakfast in their sleeping clothes without discussing it; and as a golden haze of warmth and good cheer washed over everyone there, Hel privately thought it was an excellent idea.

 

It took several moments before any of them could shake their food coma long enough to even think about opening presents. Eventually, Ron led the charge as he grabbed each stack and un-shrunk each parcel and designated himself as the Christmas Elf that would hand out all the presents. A notion that Daphne had brought up when she had told them all about Christmases with her family in Cornwall, on the south coast. 

 

Neville is inundated with rare books on Herbology - his favourite subject - and a small terraforming bucket that’s bigger on the inside. Penny shifts into a mouse and explores the interior, delighted with the smells of thick earth and rain. Neville’s smile is brilliant and delighted, he’s never seemed happier.

 

Daphne girds herself with haircare products and make up as a form of protection against the outside world. Hermione buys her a thick bathrobe made of microfibre and a pair of woollen socks charmed to be forever-heated. Blaise and Ron get her a voucher for a spa; while Hel and Neville and Theo each buy her books on the nastiest curses just this side of legal. Daphne smirks as she flicks through the pages, her eyes gleaming with a kind of vindictiveness that makes them all glad they’re not the target.

 

Hermione receives not a single book, to her apparent sorrow. Until she realises that Blaise has bought her a mini, holographic pensive; Ron, an artefact from Egypt courtesy of his brother that is actually a cleverly disguised scroll on fire magic that’s more wand movements than anything worded; Neville, a plant that he thought might lighten up her room and has a scent specifically designed to be calming because he knows she gets stressed at exam time; Theo, a wand holster and a knife designed to open any lock along with a fierce expression that accompanied his assurance that he’d teach her to do more than stab another person with the sharp pointy end; and Hel and Daphne have chipped in for a special set of hair care products, a guarantee that they’ll make your hair frizz-free, although both Slytherin’s admit to her that they like her hair, so didn’t get her shampoo and conditioner with a straightening potion in it. 

 

Theo is next and all six of them had chipped in to buy him a small arsenal of weapons, not just knives and a short sword that makes Theo’s Iset grin wide and feral as a hyena as they both pour over the collection with hungry eyes; but also a muggle handgun complete with blanks as ammunition. Not even Blaise’s Mum, the Black Widow herself, had thought that giving a twelve year old boy a fully loaded handgun was a good idea. Theo hadn’t seemed to mind, instead his fingers were nimble and quick as he picked the piece apart and looked it over with curious eyes. Hermione has never been so scared of the blue eyes boy before, and Theo can be pretty terrifying at times. 

 

Ron is gifted in a book on strategies and chess by Neville who’s smile is shy but pleased at the redheads delighted exclamation; Hermione and Blaise had pooled their resources to buy Ron a self-correcting quill and a set of colour-changing inks as well as a bottle of fine black ink that was perfect for everyday use; Hel had been struggling to think of something to buy Ron until Theo and Daphne had both suggested that they buy the other boy a set of robes, including some novelty Quidditch robes for fans from the Chudley Cannons, Ron had actually burst into tears when he opened those and had immediately pulled them on over his pyjamas. 

 

Blaise with his love for spell crafting and runes is gifted runic parchment that is reusable and made of vellum, as well as three top of the line spell crafting guides that were well beyond his level but everyone was sure he’d be able to use soon enough. Hermione had also made sure that the group had included a special kind of pen required to enchant items along with a slim novel that had been written by a goblin some three hundred years ago and was pretty much outlawed everywhere but Russia. 

 

Hel had been saved for last, all of them knew that she had never received a single thing for Christmas and while she had been brilliant in saving Neville’s remembrall from Malfoy during their first flying lesson, she was a Slytherin and so not exactly given to being rewarded after she’d broken the rules; although Professor Snape had clearly made mention of her abilities to Marcus Flint, as the fifth year had dragged her along to practice more than once and Terrence Higgs, the current Seeker, had drilled her on every evasion and sequence that Seekers were required to know. Which was why she’d been bought not only new Quidditch robes, but also Quidditch through the ages, and several playbooks written by various coaches through the years for different teams. Neville and Blaise had also had a Snitch monogrammed with her initials so that she could practice when not with the Slytherin team; and while none of them bought her a broom, they hinted heavily that they might do so when she finally secured her place on the team next year. 

 

Hel has never smiled to brightly in all her years and when she went to bed that night, she was still smiling and holding that snitch in her hand and Cadfael curled up beside her in the form of a golden snidget, both of them excited by their busy day absolutely sure that things can only get better from here on out.

 


	3. The Dragon

New Year arrived in a flurry of snow that holed everyone up in the castle, freezing windows in their grooves and frosting the air until it hurt to breathe. Hel has never seen anything like it, neither had Daphne, and both girls ran around the castle delighting in the view from every vantage point they could find. Daphne’s camera is well used by the time classes started again; and Ron and Blaise had finally stopped teasing them both about their wide eyed amazement after Hermione hexed them with elephant ears. 

 

With the turn of the new year has come yet another invitation from Hagrid. This time, Ron, Theo and Hel went alone; because Hermione and Daphne are plotting with Ron’s twin older brothers, the introduction of a little bit of Slytherin to Hermione’s mix of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw was a deadly combination and Parkinson would certainly cop something new and… _exciting_. 

 

There is close to two feet of snow on the ground, and and the dæmons of the three children have become three enormous bears that stomped the snow down and towed their humans through the soft white flurry. Hagrid stands on the top of his front stairs to his hut with a bright, wide smile and Hel run’s the last little bit of distance and is swept up in a huge hug by the half-giant who smelt strongly of woodsmoke and fire. Theo avoids his own hug, although Ron embraces Hagrid easily enough. 

 

Hagrid spins around the room making tea and collecting up a plate of rock cakes that make Hel think of actual rocks when she picks up one of the heavy, solid pastries. Cadfael is perched directly above her in the shape of a small, hooked beak osprey with gleaming yellow eyes; Hel looks up at him every so often, wondering what he’s thinking about with those yellow eyes so far away. 

 

Ron’s Orinda is in the shape of a lithe, glossy brown rat that is perched upon his shoulder, her soft chittering a sweet accompaniment to the conversation that Ron and Hagrid exchanged about the different teas that wizards brewed. Iset is watching the cheerfully discussing duo with curious eyes as she curled up on the settee in the form of a contentedly purring cat at Theo’s side. 

 

Hel smiles softly and sinks back into her chair and looks up at Cadfael once more, “come have some tea, Cadfael,” she beckoned her demon down, drawing Hagrid’s attention, “it’s nice and hot just like you like it.”

 

Cadfael’s tail twitches a though he’d heard Hel speaking, but makes no reply. His great, yellow eyes at fixed on the fireplace as though he’s been hypnotised by the flames. Fang is hunkered down close to the hearth, his black eyes half closed from the soporific effect from the fire. Hel leans over the tabletop, curious as to whats drawn her dæmons attention and her brows draw close together at the sight of a giant black egg charred from flame and soot sitting in the grate.

 

“Hagrid,” Hel asks, “what is that thing?”

 

Ron’s mouth drops open and he answers well before Hagrid can come up with a reasonable excuse. “I know what that is,” Ron exclaims, “that’s a dragons egg! They’re really rare!”

 

Theo, roused by Ron’s announcement, ends up standing beside Hel with a hand on her shoulder, his fingers digging in tightly; whether from excitement or fear, Hel doesn’t know. “They’re also really illegal,” Theo says softly and Iset slithers along his shoulders in the form of a long, green lizard.

 

Hagrid coughs gruffly, looking put out by Theo’s comment. “I can’t get rid of him, he’s just a baby,” the half-giant interjected as the egg gave a rattle in the grate. It was gentle but definitely moving and Hel realises that the movement had been what had drawn Cadfael’s attention in the first place. 

 

Hel slowly stood and felt Cadfael come to a rest upon her shoulder not already gripped by Theo’s hand. “Hagrid,” she began, “it looks like it’s hatching…”

 

Hagrid’s joy knows no bounds as he grabs a length of soft, worn leather from the back of a chair and unheedingly scooping the egg from the grate onto the tabletop. Rock-cakes and teacups go flying as Fang and Orinda set forepaws on the table so that they can see, their eyes keen and curious even as Hagrid and Ron, in a shared moment of sheer delight, hunkered down and watched the egg rock back and forth with increasing intensity.

 

Hel had always thought dragons eggs hatched in an explosion of shell and slime; but this one didn’t. It rocks and rattles for close to three hours and all but Theo and Hel eventually fall back in blatant disappointment. Cadfael and Iset whisper together, eyes gleaming much as their humans do, watching the egg that threatens to crack.

 

Cadfael, always the curious one in their relationship, hops closer, beak opening and closing, his form that of a Golden Eagle much as Professor McGonagall’s dæmon, Séaghdha. “It comes,” he intones as he stretches out his neck and taps his beak on the shell of the dragon egg.

 

Hel leans forwards, bracing her hands on the tabletop, conscious of Theo’s hand reaching up to grip her shoulder again and reel her back from the danger zone. Hagrid joins them, excitement bleeding from him as he taps at the table impatiently, Fang at his elbow. Ron reaches out and presses an arm against Hel’s chest, bracing the girl as she presses forwards against Theo’s caution.

 

Hel, for her part, feels hungry with anticipation. She’s never seen a dragon before but she grew up on them like all kids did; and she felt more in tune with magic, spells, dragons and unicorns than she ever did hearing about princes and princesses and singing songs. Cadfael shimmers and shines as he slips from form to form, mirroring Hel’s excitement in a way that he hasn’t for years.

 

A deep crack sounds, reverberating around the tiny cabin. Hel edges closer, her breath coming sharp and hard, eyes keen as she watches. Theo tightens his grip, worry creasing his brow as he watches his friend lean far too close to a hatching dragon. 

 

The egg shatters hard and fast.

 

Egg shell sprays skyward and a splinter flings close to Hel’s face, but she does not flinch; far too absorbed in the baby dragons’ hatching. Theo’s curse echoes obnoxiously in the air as the brown haired boy ducks beneath the shower of dragon shell. Ron winces as a fleck catches him beneath his eyes, a dribble of blood smearing down his cheek, but ignores the sting of pain to stare at…

 

The dragon.

 

It’s not very impressive, Ron thinks, the dragon looks a bit like a wet, crumpled umbrella with a long, skinny, jet black body and glowing orange eyes that are staring right at Hel and her dæmon. The baby’s mouth yawns open wide and exposing needle like teeth and a throat that glows with dragon-fire.

 

Theo barks out a warning and tightens his grip on Hel, hauling the girl backwards just in time to avoid the boiling breath of the baby dragon. “Hellen!” Theo shoves Cadfael into his humans arms, his spare arm reaching up to brace Iset against the side of his face. 

 

Ron’s scream is loud as the redhead fails to duck fast enough and his arm is almost broiled in its sleeve. Hagrid grabs Ron and hauls him behind him before reaching out and grabbing the dragon beneath its head and holding it in place.

 

“Norbert! No!” 

 

Hagrids cry of anger does not cease the dragons struggles and the half-giant is forced to pin the dragon in place with a bruising grip. “Enough!” Hagrid orders the screaming beast while Fang appears at his elbow carrying a bucket of chicken blood, malt whiskey, and barley. The dragon, Norbert according to Hagrid’s fevered mutterings, dived head first into the slurry and quickly calms. 

 

Ron, collapsed on Hagrids’ sofa, breathes a distinct sigh of relief. “That,” he says with an exchanged wary look with Theo, “was too close.”

 

Hel flops onto one of the dining chairs, unable to help her fascination with the creature that was steadily working his way through another bucket of feed. “I think he’s fantastic, Hagrid,” she tells the half giant with a brilliant grin, and Cadfael twines himself loose and scaled around her neck, mimicking without mirroring, the dragon hatchling across the table. 

 

Theo exchanges yet another exasperated glance with Ron, both their dæmons pressing in close to their humans for comfort. “We’re coming back here to help Hagrid, aren’t we?” Theo’s voice is despairing but Hagrid takes it as encouragement as he brings out a quill, ink and parchment and begins to write up a scheduled rotation of carers.

 

Ron’s face falls into the palms of his hands but he doesn’t groan until Hel offers to help out twice as much as everyone else, her delight in the baby dragon’s presence clear as day. “We’re all going to die, Orinda,” Ron told his dæmon mournfully, his hand knotted into her ruff gently. Orinda’s amusement wasn’t the slightest bit reassuring to him.

 

**xXx**

 

It takes close to two months before Ron cracks it. He’s sitting on a bed in the hospital wing cradling his bitten arm and trying to avoid the pointed questions of the school nurse, Madam Pomfrey. Hel’s not helping, not really. She’s more prying into the magical medical process and Ron’s feeling very ignored by both Hel and the nurse. Even Orinda isn’t being helpful, she’s tiny and feathers and perched on the crown of his head where she’d leapt after Norbert had tried to eat her. Ron’s feeling more than a little sour over the whole thing. 

 

It’s to this that Neville walks into the Hospital Wing carrying Ron’s homework. Pausing at the redheads side, Neville raises an eyebrow at the harried nurse and her Golden Retriever dæmon as they are pelted with question after question by the ever-curious Hel. 

 

“We need to get rid of that thing,” Ron grumbles as he accepts Neville’s help in lying back onto the bed, his eyes watering from pain. 

 

Neville ducks his head, and shoots the nurse another look trying to see if it was safe to speak. “Didn’t you say you have a brother who studies dragons in Romania?” Neville whispers, remembering his own close call with Norbert. Ron had been protecting his dæmon, which is why he’d gotten bitten. Neville had been lucky that Fang had intervened, but that hadn’t stopped the boar hound dæmon from bearing his own fang marks afterwards. 

 

Ron shoots upright, “Neville,” he rasps in desperation, “you’re bloody brilliant!” 

 

Neville flushes, still not used to being praised by his friends constantly, “it’s just an idea,” he says softly.

 

“A bloody good one,” Ron says. Digging through his pack, Ron pulls out a piece of parchment, “here,” he says, “write the message for me. Don’t you dare tell Charlie that I got bitten by the damn thing.”

 

Neville nods as as he takes down Ron’s missive. “Now what?” Neville asks, “it’s not like I can just tell Hagrid that we’re getting rid of-”

 

Ron’s widened eyes and frantically shaking head are enough to cut Neville off, but Madam Pomfrey stares at them in suspicion. “Get rid of what, Mister Longbottom?” She asks in a tone of voice that makes Neville wish that the floor would open up and swallow him. “Whatever you’re up to wouldn’t have anything to do with Mister Weasley’s dog bite, would it?”

 

“No, ma’am!” Neville refutes, stumbling backwards in an attempt to escape. “Uh,” Neville looks around himself desperately, “oh, Hel, right, um, Hermione wants to see you?”

 

Hel blinks in confusion as she’s towed out of the Hospital Wing, leaving a very suspicious nurse behind. Neville ditches her in the Entrance Hall, pointing at the Great Hall where lunch is in progress, before running off. Hel slips inside and spots Hermione beside Daphne at the Slytherin table, both girls are hunched over a pice of parchment and appear to be arguing. 

 

Settling across from them, Hel blinks at Hermione’s confused expression. “What?”

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be helping Hagrid with that extra credit project, Hel?” Hermione questions, pulling the parchment closer to her chest and studiously and false calmly folding it up despite the wet ink. 

 

Hel shrugs uncomfortably, “Ron got bitten, so I took him up to the Hospital Wing.”

 

“Ron got _bit_ by that thing?” Daphne demands, her blue eyes narrowing in clear anger. Hermione and Daphne exchange a meaningful glance, “that thing needs to go,” Daphne says darkly.

 

“Before we all get eaten,” Hermione agrees.

 

Hel pouts, “but it’s just a baby, Hermione, we can’t just leave him!”

 

“You’re as bad as Hagrid,” Daphne grumbles, poking at a potato on her plate. “Another month and that _baby_ will be as big as Hagrids house. It’s already too big for us to handle and spells just bounce off it.”

 

“You cast magic on it?” Hermione exclaims in horror, “are you trying to get bitten?”

 

Daphne bared her teeth in a vicious sort of smile, “it tried to eat Micha!” The swallow-tailed dove on Daphne’s shoulder nods his head in agreement. “I was protecting my dæmon.”

 

Hel squirms uncomfortably. “That’s how Ron got bit,” she admits, “Norbert tried to eat Orinda. Even Fang’s got bite marks on him.”

 

Hermione’s mouth thins, “it _needs_ to go, Hellen, you _know_ that!”

 

Hel sighs but nods her head in acceptance. “Yeah,” she says in defeat, “guess so.”

 

“Great,” Daphne says as she serves Hel some salad with a narrow eyed glance that suggests that the younger girl had better eat her greens _or else_. “That’s that sorted.”

 

“So,” Hermione says faux casually, “who gets to tell Hagrid what we’ve decided and how do we get rid of it?”

 

Hel frowns, “I’m not sure about the first, but I think Neville might have something about the first. I heard him and Ron talking about Charlie in the Hospital Wing. I think Madam Pomfrey heard too, she was looking kind of suspicious when we left but then, Ron did tell her that a dog bit him.”

 

“A dog?” Daphne asks faintly, “is that boy an idiot?”

 

Hermione rolls her eyes and strokes her hand down the length of Leontes’ back, the dæmon giving a rumbling purr at the sensation. “There are times when I wonder,” Hermione says with a roll of her eyes. “So, Charlie, isn’t that Ron’s brother?”

 

Daphne frowns in thought. “The curse-breaker?”

 

“No, that’s Bill,” Hel says with a grin, “Charlie works with dragons.”

 

There was a pause and then three identical grins split their faces. Ron’s brother Charlie works with dragons. The three girls packed up their book bags and race out the Great Hall door towards the fourth floor, leaving a blonde haired boy staring after them. Malfoy narrows his eyes and rubs a finger along Clara’s cheek. All this talk of dragons, if Draco Malfoy didn’t know better, he might have thought that oaf was keeping a dragon at the school… except, dragon breeding was highly illegal and there was no way that Albus Dumbledore would allow it to happen under his very nose.

 

**xXx**

 

Two weeks later, standing in front of Minerva McGonagall’s desk, Draco Malfoy knew without a doubt that a) Hagrid really was that stupid to hatch a dragon at a school, b) he was in trouble for being out of bed despite trying to do the right thing, and c) Hellen Potter had no right to look that smug after losing Slytherin House one hundred points. 

 

The only good thing to come out of this mess was that Weasley and Longbottom had lost Gryffindor one hundred points too; so at least the lion house wasn’t massively in the lead anymore. 

 

 

Damn Hellen bloody Potter to hell, this was all her fault.

 


	4. The Forest, Part One

It is dark between the trees. Quiet too. Not an owl barks in the distance. Not a leaf rustles on the ground despite the breeze that twists through the tree tops. Hel and Cadfael can’t even hear the sound of Hagrid, Ron, and Neville anymore, and there is no way that Ron isn’t still complaining about spiders and werewolves. It is quiet.

 

Too quiet.

 

Malfoy’s dæmon, Clara, seems to swell as she transitions gracefully from a small, white ermine with needle sharp teeth to an imperious looking white tiger with crystal blue eyes. Hel’s mouth thins, unimpressed that despite the fear that Malfoy is projecting like crazy, the older boy still has to keep up appearances of being ‘better’, of being ‘more than’ those around him. Cadfael caws as he lifts from Hel’s shoulder, the separation between them growing exponentially as the iron grey Northern raven wings his way deeper into the forest.

 

Hel steps forwards, her school shoes sinking deeper into the loam of the forest floor, as she sought through the darkness with her eyes. She felt frustration well in her breast as she was unable to parse through the gloom nor pierce beyond the halo of light that the lantern in her hand cast. “We should keep going,” Hel says calmly, forgetting that Malfoy is not Ron and thus unlikely to be happy with her plan.

 

Indeed, Malfoy puffs up like an injured bullfrog at Hel’s words, “are you _insane_?!” The Slytherin demands, furious, “there is something out there and you _want to go looking for it?!_ ”

 

“I don’t want to,” Hel corrects Malfoy with a calm that she didn’t feel, “but we were asked to find the injured unicorn-”

 

“I,” Malfoy states coldly, “do not care,” he says with firm diction, “about some _ruddy_ unicorn _that may_ or _may not_ be dead!”

 

Hel can’t help but curl her lip in utter disgust at the other boy’s cowardice. “Suit yourself, Malfoy,” she tells him with finality. Turning away, Hel strides away into the dark, following the faint wingbeats of Cadfael’s long disappeared form. Hel is glad that Cadfael has discarded the form of the Maned Owl he’s been wearing for few weeks now. Following silent wingbeats would have been impossible. 

 

Behind her, the pale faced Malfoy slowly disappears into the swallowing gloom of the night. It barely takes any time at all before Hel could barely make his form out against the dark of the surrounding trees behind her. She’d be lying if she said she isn’t scared, because she is, but she has a job to do and she feels she owes it to Hagrid to find the lost unicorn after losing the man his dragon.

 

Moments bled by as Hel makes her way deeper into the steadily gathering dark, tripping over root and bramble as she searches around her with tired eyes. It seems as though barely seconds had passed when a bank of fog rolls in and Hel feels her heart rabbit in her chest as the eery wall of dense white smothers her thin frame. For the first time since leaving Malfoy, Hel begins to wonder if she shouldn’t send up red sparks and have Hagrid find her. 

 

The fog muffles everything. If it had been quiet before, it is dead silent now. Hel can’t even hear her own breathing anymore, and she only knows she was breathing for the fact that she could feel her chest expand and contract with every desperate mouthful. The scent of the loam, already wet, becomes suffocatingly heavy, hanging around her like a miasma and Hel feels a wave of chill spread out along her arms and legs, making her feet feel leaden and stiff. 

 

She is scared.

 

Of course, it was in the midst of this fear that Hel feels hands grab her shoulders and she screamed, loud and piercing, in her fright. Hel whips around and the years of constant practice against Dudley and his thugs has her balling up her fist and slamming it blindly forwards.

 

Malfoy’s startled and pained oath breaks through Hel’s wild terror.

 

“Malfoy?!” She demands, “what the hell are you doing here?”

 

Malfoy’s eyes are watering as he looks up between his hands that are pressed into his nose firmly, Hel rather suspects she’s broken it. “Looking for you, braindead,” he snarls at her in a muffled voice that sounds kind of thick, “what were you thinking, running off like that without backup?”

 

Hel shrugs faintly, “I was angry,” she says by a way of explanation.

 

Malfoy’s mouth twists ugly beneath his wrists, “you idiot, Potter, you could have been killed!” 

 

Hel’s expression turns mulish, “you’re the idiot, Malfoy,” she snaps back childishly.

 

“Whatever, Potter,” Malfoy hisses out, wincing as he probes his nose carefully, “you broke my nose, you bitch.” He doesn’t sound too bothered by it, more angry that Hel has managed to get behind his guard in the first place. “We should send up red sparks, we’ll never find our way out of this fog.”

 

Hel’s teeth grit, “we _need_ to find the unicorn, Malfoy,” she tells him determinedly.

 

“Why does the bloody unicorn even matter _so_ _much_ to you?” Malfoy demands, “it’s just a-”

 

But whatever the unicorn was, Hel never finds out, because at that moment they both hear the sound of something slithering over dead leaves. Terror like ice flooded their veins and Malfoy’s hand shoots out to grab Hel’s own, both pulling her behind him and in front of him, until their shoulders are pressed painfully together. Clara, who is still an enormous white tiger, lets out a truly menacing growl that reverberated in their chests and down their legs. Hel swears she can feel the forest tremble with the force of that blood curdling snarl. 

 

“Malfoy?” Hel says in a weak, feathery voice.

 

Malfoy doesn’t dare turn his head to look at Hel, but his body shudders in fear all the same. “What?” He asks through lips that felt numb.

 

“What was that sound?”

 

“I,” Malfoy’s voice cracks, “don’t know…”

 

Hel shivers as a breeze stirs the air behind them, freezing along the backs of their necks and slithering down their spines. Hel’s ears strain for the slightest noise and she keeps an eye on Clara, who’s keen eyes are staring frantically out in front of them. The three of them can see nothing, hear nothing. Not even the wind stirred the upper branches anymore. Everything was silent and still.

 

The breeze wafts along the backs of their necks again and Hel’s body stiffens in horrified understanding. Whatever it was, whatever had _made. that. sound._

 

It.

 

Was.

 

Right.

 

Behind.

 

Them.

 


	5. The Forest, Part Two

Hel lunges forwards, her hand clamped tightly around Malfoy’s own as she drags him forwards at a headlong dash. Behind them, Clara races to keep up while also keeping an eye behind them. Her voice urges the two first year students onwards, her tone desperate and pleading. The slithering started up again. This time louder.

 

This time, _closer_.

 

Malfoy’s terrified face is white against the backdrop of the inky trees and Hel is hard pressed to keep herself upright, let alone him too. Far ahead, Hel can hear the dual baying of Hagrid’s Fang and Ron’s Orinda as the other group made their way towards Hel and Malfoy and their dæmons.

 

It isn’t enough.

 

The slithering sound seems to both stop and at the same time increase and then, Malfoy, who had been running steadily if heavily, collapses with a high pitched scream of pain. Hel falls down beside the boy and turns him over, frantically patting him down trying to find what was wrong and why Malfoy wouldn’t stop screaming.

 

“Clara,” Hel shouted in panic, “what’s wrong with him? Why is he screaming? Clara? Clara?! CLARA!!”

 

But the white tiger didn’t answer and Hel turns to stare behind her and feels dread well in her chest at what she saw. Clara is pinned beneath a demon in a black cloak. 

 

Hel can see the bright red eyes glowing beneath the hood of the cloak that cast its face in shadow, but for the beings chin that shone silver with the blood of the missing unicorn. Hel nearly vomits when Clara screams in unison with Malfoy, her high pitched cat’s shriek cutting through Malfoy’s pained howls of another person touching his dæmon. There is nothing more agonising.

 

“Clara,” Hel moans in terror as she grips Malfoy’s shoulder’s so tightly it is sure to bruise. “No…”

 

“Yes…” the beast rasps in a voice that reminds Hel of snake scales sliding over stone, of a cloak being dragged over leaves, of everything that her worst nightmares could conjured and more. “I’m so hungry,” the beast moans like a dying man’s last breath upon a battlefield.

 

Hel’s scream mirrors the sound of Malfoy and Clara’s own as the beast in the black cloak _sucked_ and Clara seems to waver and shimmer before Hel’s horrified eyes, her gut wrenching painfully where it sits like lead in her belly. “No, no, no,” Hel pleads, begs, desperately trying to stop the creature from harming Malfoy’s dæmon, to stop Malfoy’s screaming, to make Clara scream again just so Hel knew the dæmon was alive…

 

Because she doesn’t know. Hel can’t tell. Hel can’t see. 

 

_Hel doesn’t know if Clara is still alive…_

 

The rapid beat of wings put to mind of angels, but Cadfael’s _‘skree’_ is so much better than any mere angel; and their united desperation is such that they cast about into the recesses of their own minds to remember when they had last been so scared, so horrified, so desperate…

 

And Cadfael is changing as scales erupt down his back that becomes more sinuous and long and his wings flare out, feathers becoming webbing between long, fingerlike protrusions that called to mind an umbrella’s top. The creature in the long black cloak is bowled over by Cadfael, Hel feeling distinctly glad that she can’t feel what Cadfael feels anymore since the separation, because just being in that things presence feels oily and gross. 

 

There is a howl and a screech and then a deafening roar followed by a bloodied gargle before mist blacker than the inside her boot on a dark night rises above the heaving, gasping body of Hel’s dæmon. A screaming face imprints itself upon the miasma before it flings itself skyward and disappears from view. 

 

Hel can hear Hagrid and Ron’s calls, but she can’t reply, her voice frozen in her throat as she stared at her dæmon, who has taken on the form of a great, black, Norwegian Ridgeback. Beneath the great forepaws of Cadfael, Clara stirs to life, her fur bristling in remembered terror as she finds her feet and stares at the cloaked form that lies beside her.

 

“What was that thing?” Clara asks Cadfael in horror, “it felt like it was sucking the life from me, like I couldn’t breathe.”

 

Cadfael’s lip curls in disgust, “it is something twisted and dark and not of this place,” the dragon replies.

 

Hel looks down at the boy by her side and shook his shoulder, “Malfoy, wake up,” she urged, “please, Malfoy,” she whispers in desperation, “wake. up!”

 

Malfoy’s groan is as welcome as it was suddenly funny as a wash of disbelieving relief overcame Hel. At Clara’s incredulous expression at Hel’s own miserable, hysterical giggle, Hel’s comment of “we survived,” makes a lot of sense.To her. Cadfael is aloofly pretending not to be affected, but the way he sways towards Hel makes her think of when they’d been little and hiding in the cupboard under the stairs from Dudley.

 

Malfoy sits upright, his hair and robes disheveled as he stares around him with angry silver eyes, “when my father hears about this,” he threatens wrathfully, “Dumbledore will be sacked!”

 

“I’d like to see your father try, Malfoy,” Hagrid’s disgusted voice cuts in and Hel finds herself hauled to her feet and kind, beetle-black eyes staring down at her. “Alright there, Hellen?” Hagrid asks her, “we heard screaming. What happened?”

 

“There was this, thing,” Hel explains, pointing at where Cadfael is standing, his form a more normal sort of black dog with wiry hair and intelligent brown eyes. Hel almost misses the Norwegian Ridgeback, but knows that Cadfael’s weird ability to become magical creatures would raise more questions than Hel wanted to answer. Only insane people have magical creatures as dæmons and Hel has enough trouble with people believing her without the stigma attached; besides, it’s supposed to be impossible. Hel’s already survived one impossible thing, she doesn’t need another.

 

“A thing?” Ron asks, peering around Hagrid’s greatcoat with Neville clinging to his hand in fear. “What kind of thing?”

 

“Dunno,” Hel admits as she helps a wobbly kneed Malfoy to his feet, “but it attacked us and tried to eat Clara.”

 

Malfoy shivered even as Ron gawps in shock. “ _Eat Clara_?” Ron demands, a hand shooting out to his own dæmon, Orinda, who is currently a large, red bloodhound with soft doe-brown eyes and a wet black nose. Neville’s own Penny, who was a small, red squirrel at the moment, chatters nervously from his position on Neville’s shoulder. “You _can’t eat dæmons_!”

 

Neville shudders and his already white face bleaches whiter in the gloom.

 

“Dementors can,” Malfoy whispers, looking sick as he clings to Clara, who is a pale coated tabby cat. “Dementors eat souls, Weasley, and your dæmon is your soul.”

 

Ron reels and grabs at Hagrids coat, narrowly missing touching Fang, Hagrids dæmon. “I forgot about them,” Ron admits, swaying lightly. Orinda presses into Ron’s legs and shivers.

 

“C’mon,” Hagrid says gruffly, clearly not sure what to do with four stressed out preteens. “Off to bed with all of you. I need to tell the Headmaster what happened. I imagine that Professor Dumbledore will get some Aurors to find out what happened here tonight.”

 

Hel trails after their little group blankly. “Cadfael,” she whispers, “you felt it, didn’t you?”

 

Cadfael, once more in the shape of a large black raven, preens his beak through Hel’s hair. “I felt it,” he says.

 

“My scar hurt,” Hel says softly, “it burnt like it was on fire. Cadfael, what does  that _mean_?”

 

Cadfael doesn’t answer, because he’s just like Hel, and he doesn’t know the answer; but something tells him its nothing good. 

 


End file.
